


You Only Tease the Ones You Love

by galoots



Series: Loots Duck Universe (LDU) [5]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Teasing, Teens Flirting, Tickling, Uncles goofin' on said teens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 21:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20216713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galoots/pseuds/galoots
Summary: Team Uncle Week 2019 - Day Two: TeasingDonald and his classmate, Daisy, are working on a school project at the McDuck Manor. And these two obviously have it bad for one another. Politely, Scrooge waits until after Daisy leaves to mercilessly clown on his beloved nephew.





	You Only Tease the Ones You Love

Scrooge carefully picked his way through an obstacle course of scattered sheets, uncapped markers, open textbooks, glue sticks, and vials of glitter that littered the floor. His previously pristine living room now resembled the desolate battlefield of some craft-related war. Not that he particularly minded a little mess as long as Donald and his little study partner were getting their project done. Duckworth, however, would surely have a fit if he laid eyes upon this catastrophic mess.

He reached the couch just as the kids re-entered the living room. Both Donald and Daisy were carrying armfuls of fresh school supplies, backup munitions to bolster their existing armaments. Donald’s greeting was cut short when a stray marker underfoot caused him to lose his footing, sending him crashing to the ground. With an elegant sidestep, Daisy avoided the trajectory of Donald’s fall and watched his supplies spill everywhere.

“Hello Mr. McDuck.” She greeted him politely while using her sneaker-clad foot to jostle Donald’s prone body, making sure he was still alive.

His uncle fought back a sigh. Ever since that boy had hit his growth spurt, he’d become an accident waiting to happen. He’d been clumsy before, but puberty compounded his bungling into something extraordinary. A regular bull in a china shop.

Scrooge suppressed the urge to rush to his nephew’s side to check on him like he would whenever he took a spill as a tot. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Donald in front of his new objet d’affection. Still, he couldn’t conceal a sympathetic wince when Donald’s chin collided with the hardwood floor.

He cleared his throat loudly to distract Daisy from the spectacle of a flustered Donald scrambling to collect himself. “So how goes the project, kiddos?”

“G-good!” Donald was crouched now, trying to play off his fall as if it hadn’t happened and gathering up the items he’d spilled. “We, uh, we’ve been working hard. A+ material for sure!”

Daisy made a smug little noise at that remark. “_I’ve _been working hard he means. Donald here—” she flipped his bangs teasingly with her hand, “—keeps zoning out and staring off into space.”

“Not true!” He stopped cleaning up in order to playfully yank her tied shoelaces undone. “I wrote the whole section about the socio-political fallout that lead to the dawn of WWII!”

“Hey!” Daisy cried with mock offense at his retribution and bumped him with her hip in response. “Only ‘cause I had to nag you last night to work on it instead of bombarding me with IM’s.”

A small knowing smile crept on to Scrooge’s face while he watched their cute repartee over the folded edge of his newspaper. They’d only befriended each other recently but almost immediately established a familiar coquettish rapport with one another. Scrooge wasn’t the most perceptive duck in the flock, but even he knew puppy love when it was staring him in the face. He watched their spectacle with subtle attention while the two of them—absorbed in laughter and chatter, shy accidental brushes of the hand, exchanges of coy smiles and glances—forgot entirely about his presence in the room.

He let their steady banter coupled with the soft scratch of pencil lead on paper serve fade to the background of his focus as he turned back to his reading. The two of them were well-suited for each other it seemed, since they were able to make steady progress on their project despite their flirting.

Time passed pleasantly as the hour grew later, marked by the steady fading of the light outside. Having noticed the change, Daisy checked her wristwatch and began to pack up her things. “I gotta get home.” She swung her backpack over her shoulder and stood up, smoothing her skirt as she did so.

“Already?” Donald complaint was tinged with disappointment. No doubt their time together seemed excruciatingly short from his point of view.

Daisy nudged him with her shoulder. “It’s late! If I stay any later my mom will flip. She’ll think I skipped town with some hunky guy or something.”

Donald opened his beak to ready a response, but Scrooge intervened, asking Daisy if she needed a ride home before his nephew could utter a word. He knew his nephew well enough to know when he was about to insert his foot into his mouth. It was for his own good anyway—he doubted Donald’s remark about the identity of that hunky guy being a certain teen-aged duck would have been successful.

Scrooge threw his newspaper onto the couch as he hastily moved to prevent disaster. “So, need a ride home, Daisy?”

“No thanks, Mr. McDuck. I rode my bike here.”

“Alright,” Scrooge yielded, “Just see to it you get home safely, alright? I don’t want to read about a reckless driver’s collision with cyclist because of low visibility in tomorrow’s paper.”

“I’ll be fine, Mr. McDuck. I got those reflective stickers on my bike.” She smiled at him, pleased that he cared enough to worry about her.

Like the courteous gentleman Scrooge raised Donald to be, he walked their guest to the door to see her out. Scrooge trailed behind, letting Donald hold the door open for her while they exchanged pleasantries. As Daisy took off down their driveway, she waved to them both before finally pedaling out of sight.

Donald waved dreamily at her retreating figure and said, in a voice too quiet for her to hear, “Bye, Daisy.”

Scrooge smirked at his love-sick nephew. Turning to head back inside, Donald caught his uncle’s smug little grin.

“What?” Donald shut the door behind him, noticing Scrooge’s impish grin.

He didn’t want to tease his nephew about his crush when she was present, but now that she was gone? It was a no-holds barred moosewood stadium freestyle goofing sesh, and Scrooge was ready to bring the heat.

“Oh, nothing…” He swung his cane nonchalantly in the air on his way back to the living room, eager for Donald to take the bait.

Donald jogged after him, a perturbed, suspicious look fixed on his face. “What are you smiling about?”

Scrooge sat gingerly back down on the couch. Hook, line, and sinker. Time for the games to begin. “Can’t a man smile in his own home?”

Donald eyed him with apprehension, let out a _hmph, _and bent down to start tidying the mess he’d left on the living room floor.

Crossing his ankle over his knee, Scrooge tittered to himself. “That Daisy of yours is quite the nice young gal, isn’t she?”

Right on cue, Donald blushed and stammered nervously. “She’s fine! I guess. Whatever, its not like I _like _her or anything. I mean, I _like _her but not like_, like-like_ her. She’s just a girl! Who happens to be a friend!”

Scrooge hummed, sounding unconvinced. His nephew ducked his head bashfully, focusing his attention on his cleaning efforts.

He tapped a finger against his chin, peering down at Donald. “You know, Tennyson said Spring was the time a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of love. I think he may be mistaken; the season’s clearly fall.”

Dropping his armful of stationery, Donald squawked. “I don’t _love _her!”

Chuckling, Scrooge swatted Donald’s head lightly with his rolled-up newspaper. “I was discussing poetry, nephew. You should be the expert. You are the designated poet in this family, after all.”

Grumbling loudly, Donald started to pack up the arts and crafts supplies even faster.

“Speaking of, you haven’t given me one of your poems to read in a while. Yet, I always see you scribbling away in that notebook of yours…”

Donald abruptly stood, eyes wide, and brow furrowed, briskly walking out the room. Following in quick pursuit, Scrooge wheeled around the corner into the parlor. Donald was already making his way up the stairs, beating a hasty retreat to his room.

He called after him good-naturely, enjoying the sport. “What’s the matter, nephew? No blason? No sonnets?” Scrooge puffed out his chest, thudding a fist against it, recited pompously, “_My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…”_

_ “_Shut it!” Donald leaned over the banister, waist against the railing, to shout angrily at his uncle. “That’s not even what that sonnet’s about! It’s a satirical send-up of the poetic conventions of courtly love! _God!_”

Scrooge’s laughter echoed up the staircase and down the hall Donald was trying to cross as fast as he could. Motivated, Scrooge ignored the pain in his hip to catch up with his nephew. He swung an arm over the boy’s shoulder, pulling him so close their cheeks were smushed together. “Ah young love! You never forget your first love. It’s special you know.”

With a violent shrug, Donald escaped from his uncle’s hold and stomped off towards his bedroom, quickly flinging the door closed. He hadn’t escaped the onslaught however, because Scrooge had wedged his cane between the door and its frame before it could close. Donald leaned his weight on the door, trying to keep Scrooge out, but his uncle still outclassed him when it came to strength, and he slid forward as Scrooge pushed the door open. He strolled in like he owned the place, continuing on like he hadn’t just strong-armed his way past Donald’s defenses_._“Although I suppose Mickey was your first love. Oh my, he isn’t upset about this, is he?”

“I’ve told you a million times, Uncle Scrooge! We were friends! We were never together! I don’t even like boys!” Donald squeaked out through the thick of his embarrassment.

“Ah, is that why I found you two locked in a passionate kiss that one time?”

Donald covered his bright-red face with his hands and, with a phrase now commonplace in their household, whined, “It wasn’t what it looked like!” He whipped around shoving fruitlessly at his uncle’s back. “Get out of my room! Go away!”

“Oh no,” Scrooge melodramatically exclaimed, throwing a hand to his forehead in an imitation of a faint. “I feel weak, Donald!” He leaned his weight against Donald’s hands.

“No, you’re not! Leave me alone!”

“Donald, m’boy, my body’s growing heavy. I can’t seem to move at all! How curious!” Donald was supporting his uncle’s weight now as Scrooge went limp. His arms shook with strain as he protested.

“If you don’t love me, Donnie, I do believe I’ll expire right here on the spot!”

“No, you won’t! Cut it out!”

“I’m dying…” Scrooge slumped completely against Donald. “I’m dead…” They flopped onto the bedspread as Donald’s arms gave out, and Scrooge sat on top of his nephew, pinning him to the bedspread with his weight.

“Get offa me!” Donald struggled, kicking his legs and waggling his arms, but couldn’t break free. Frustrated, he buried his head in his duvet, grumbling furious remarks into the fabric.

Well that wouldn’t do, Scrooge thought. He wanted a happy Donald, not a grumpy one. Fortunately, he knew the perfect solution. Scrooge grabbed the boy’s ankle, confining his leg between his arm and his side, and started tickling the underside of Donald’s foot. Immediately, Donald burst into hysterical laughter, his body shaking with his guffaws while he squirmed to try and get away.

It didn’t take long for Donald to yield, crying, “Uncle! Uncle!”

Unfortunately for him, Scrooge loved a good pun. “Yes, I am your uncle. What of it?” Scrooge grinned with devilish glee at his own joke.

“I mean I give! Lemme go!”

Finally, Scrooge ceased his efforts, watching Donald’s slight frame shake with residual laughter. He freed him from his hold, moving his weight off the boy and onto the mattress so the lad could catch his breath. When his breathing had evened out, Scrooge looped an arm around Donald’s neck, pulling him into a loose headlock so he could noogie him. By then, Donald had given up trying to escape his uncle’s little wrestling match. He was too tired to fight back anymore and chose to lay limply in his uncle’s grasp like a dead fish.

“You’re so _mean, _Uncle Scrooge.” Donald’s complaint had no bite behind it just the fond exasperation of a child dealing with a parent.

“Oh, come now, I only tease because I love you, dear.” He planted a gentle kiss on top of Donald’s captive head.

“Yeah, whatever.” Donald apathetically replied, before adding, in a quiet, rushed voice, “It’s not like it’s a big _deal _or anything but, um, _Iloveyoutoo.”_

Scrooge said nothing, smiling down happily at his nephew, who returned his loving gaze with a small shy smile of his own. It was a perfect moment—the kind you’d like to freeze in its tracks so you could tack up the memory in your mind like a snapshot. But time flowed on, and the peaceful little bubble was popped by a warbling cry of despair of a posh British voice that rang from downstairs. What happened to my living room?!”

“Uh oh. Puppa sounds mad,” Donald mumbled, realizing with a gasp why. “We forgot about the mess!”

“Woops.” Scrooge replied with dry dismay.

They exchanged a look, communicating wordlessly with one another. _We’re really in for it now._

**Author's Note:**

> I think you can tell I had a lot of fun with this one. I especially like writing Donald as a typical exasperated teen. "God DAD you can't just ASK about my POETRY." Also Scrooge has been waiting 15 years to absolutely destroy Donald over a crush. Can you blame him? He's just so cute when he's mad.


End file.
